


One Hell Of A Reunion

by camichats



Category: Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Awkwardness, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Career Ending Injuries, Deaf Clint Barton, Getting Back Together, Multi, Polyamory, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:07:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23359753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/camichats/pseuds/camichats
Summary: Years ago, Iron Legion had to break up because of a car wreck that effectively ended their musical career. Now, Natasha's called everyone back together for dinner.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov/Tony Stark
Comments: 6
Kudos: 47
Collections: Marvel Polyship Bingo 2020





	One Hell Of A Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> For marvel polyship bingo: G1-2000s Pop Punk Band AU

Bucky didn't know why he'd showed up. He really, really didn't. He hadn't seen everyone since- god, since a few months after the car wreck that stopped their musical career in its tracks. Iron Legion had been a pop punk band gaining steam when the eighteen-wheeler next to them popped a tire and spun right into their tour bus. It was a miracle they'd all lived, but Clint lost his hearing, Bucky lost an arm-- his _left_ , y'know, the one that was supposed to be pressing on the strings-- Tony lost fine motor control in both hands for a while (he had it back now, thanks to a massive amount of physical therapy), and Nat had been knocked in a coma for a week. 

It had been seven years since the wreck, and while Tony and Nat were healed up, Clint's hearing aids wouldn't allow for concerts, and Bucky's prosthetic was fucking amazing but it didn't have the functionality for playing guitar. Obviously they had tried to keep in touch, but when they were all dealing with injuries and trying to reconcile that they were never going to play on the big stage again, it was easier to let it fall away. One fucking car crash, and Bucky lost his arm, his career, and either one relationship or three relationships, depending on how you looked at it. Tony stayed in touch with him, and Tony built him a prosthetic that he could use; that was the extent of their interactions these day though. A few years back they'd tried to get together, just the two of them, but it hadn't worked out. They hadn't... fit, anymore. And it wasn't about how their lives had changed, it's that they didn't know how to interact for months on end without Clint or Natasha there to break up their patterns. 

Bucky and Tony talked every month and texted more often, but he hadn't heard from Clint or Nat until now. Nat emailed him, out of the blue, asking for the band to get back together for dinner. He'd said yes before he could think about it, and there wasn't a chance to try and change his mind because Clint and Tony had agreed just as quickly. 

And now he was standing outside the restaurant, tapping his foot anxiously and chewing on his thumb. What if he was the only one who showed up? What if he was here too early and was going to get chased off for casing the place? What if he'd gotten the day wrong and he didn't need to be here at all? 

"Bucky!" said a very happy, very familiar voice, and he jerked his head up. 

"Clint," he said faintly. Then he straightened, haphazardly wiping off his spit-soaked finger on his jeans. "Hey man. You look... good." Good was an understatement. Had he joined a gym full time or something? For fuck's sake, that was just ridiculous. 

Clint's grin widened. "Thanks." He stepped in, enveloping him in a hug; Bucky hugged back automatically, and he had missed this-- missed the heft of Clint in his arms and the way he always leaned against Bucky like he was half a step from trying to make Bucky take all of his weight. "Like you're one to talk," he said as they stepped back, squeezing Bucky's shoulders as he looked him up and down. Bucky noticed the curve of bright purple hearing aids along the back of his ear and wondered if Tony had made those too. "Nice arm, is that the one Tony made?" 

"'Course, who else?" Bucky said with a lopsided smile. 

"Don't you kinda hate how much he's accomplished since the accident? He makes prosthetic limbs and hospital equipment now, but when he was with the band, I was convincing him to snort espresso powder and shit, y'know?" 

Bucky snickered, because he'd completely forgotten about that. Unsurprisingly, Tony had spent the next two weeks with a very sensitive nose and no caffeine high to enjoy. "Remember that time me and Nat matched shots?" 

"The bartender was so afraid you were going to start a fight, and all you ended up doing was petting Tony's hair and sobbing about how pretty he was." 

"As I recall, Natasha did the same thing." 

"Yeah. And then you started arguing with each other about who should get him." 

"God that's right. Who won? I don't remember much from that night." Or the following morning. Or much of anything because it had been a decade ago. 

"I'm pretty sure Tony ran into neutral arms, and I-- in my dashing glory-- saved him from both of you." 

Bucky snorted. Maybe Tony would remember. 

"Should we get a table or are we waiting for everyone to get here first?" Clint asked, and Bucky shrugged awkwardly, unwilling to admit that he'd been standing out here for a while wondering the same thing. "Right, I forgot you did that. No offense, didn't miss it." 

Bucky frowned. "Do what?" 

"Be all noncommittal and shrug when you definitely have an opinion." 

"I don't have an opinion," he said defensively. 

"Uh-huh," Clint said, clearly not believing him. "I guess we'll keep waiting out here for a while, then. What've you been up to?" 

Bucky shrugged again. 

"Am I going to have to get a fucking steamroller to get any answers out of you? C'mon man, surely you haven't been sitting on your ass for the past five years." 

"I might've been," he argued, not really knowing why. He'd always talked to Clint this way, but he'd chalked that up to age, not how they actually interacted; apparently, he'd been wrong. 

"Steamroller it is." 

Bucky didn't know what that was supposed to mean until Clint wrapped an arm tight around his shoulders. The only way he could get free was if he elbowed him in the side and then ran for it, but that wasn't a very attractive idea. 

"What've you been up to?" Clint asked. When it didn't get an immediate answer, he asked, "What's Steve been up to?" 

"Art." 

"As usual." Because Clint was an asshole, he ruffled a hand through Bucky's hair, causing him to scowl. Stupid as it might sound, he'd put effort into looking good for this. "How's that been going for him?" 

"Good. He's gotten commissions and sold a few paintings to galleries." Bucky was the one taking care of everything for him, because if it was left to Steve, he wouldn't get paid for anything, too busy starving to death or giving everything away to local coffee shops. 

"Ah, so you're his manager then." 

Bucky's scowl deepened. This was usually the part where people told him that he had to have a life outside of Steve and that he should follow his own passions or some shit. Bucky always glared at them and thought viciously of the years where he'd _been_ following his passions and how that wasn't an option anymore. 

"What's that look for? It's good, I've heard about so many people getting fucked over by their managers, at least Steve won't have to worry about that with you. I didn't know you knew how to do that sort of thing, though. Did you pick it up from Jan?" Jan had been Iron Legion's manager, and a damn brilliant one. 

"Yeah. I called her up when Steve started to need the help and she gave me a few pointers." Obviously not all of her experience was applicable from musician to artist, but most of what she'd shared had been a godsend. 

They kept talking about it a little, with Clint asking about Steve's career and Bucky hearing a few work stories from the archery academy that Clint worked for. 

"You came!" Natasha practically squealed, throwing her arms around them. 

"Uh yeah Nat, we said we would," Clint said, hugging her back. 

Bucky patted her awkwardly with his prosthetic because he was half tilting into Clint and hunched over to match Natasha's height. "You're choking me." 

"You're a liar and a big baby," she said, then turned her head and kissed him on the cheek. "I take it Tony's not here yet?" 

"He's always running late," Bucky said, kissing her cheek back. 

She let them go and put her hands on her hips as they straightened. "I recall him being punctual." 

"He wasn't running a company back then," Bucky reminded her. "If he said he'll be here, he will." 

Shortly after saying that, Bucky got a text from Tony. _Shit just saw the time omw sorry_. 

"See?" Bucky tapped out a quick message telling him that it was fine. "He's on his way." 

"From where?" 

"No idea." _Eta?_

_Uhhh_

_I'm at Dream Cream_

"Like five minutes," Bucky said. "What've you been up to Nat?" 

"Are we not waiting for these sort of things until Tony gets here?" 

Clint rolled his eyes. "Fine, be like that. Now we can all stand here in awkward silence waiting for him to show up." 

"Don't be so dramatic, we haven't been awkward around each other since we stopped being teenagers." 

"Speak for yourself," Bucky muttered. Sure, he'd had his suave moments, but for the most part he was bumbling around trying his best. It hadn't looked that way on stage, but that was a performance, not the real him. Real him was just kinda weird, and the fact that Tony, Natasha, and Clint had all liked him that way didn't make it any less true. "Do we at least get a hint for why you called us all up?" 

"What, I can't just want to see you all again?" 

"Sure you can, we're great," Clint agreed easily. "But that doesn't change the fact that this is pretty out of the blue to decide that all of us at once should reconnect." 

"We never should've fallen out of touch in the first place," Nat argued. 

"Probably not, but that doesn't change that this is kinda weird." 

Bucky nodded in agreement. 

"You're both impossible." 

"You're the one that called us," Clint reminded her. 

"And I regret it more with every second that passes," she said, and neither of them pointed out how blatantly false that statement was. 

As expected, it was a bit of an awkward stretch as they waited for Tony, but not as bad as Bucky had been afraid of. Bucky got a hug from him right away-- comfortable and familiar-- but the hugs given to Natasha and Clint were a little more hesitant, almost like he didn't know how to do it after all this time apart. 

They shuffled inside, got a table, and talked about not much of anything as they ordered drinks and looked at the menu. After the food was ordered, there was nothing else to occupy the quiet space between them. 

"So, Tasha," Tony said, "what did you call us out here for?" 

"You're all so damn paranoid, you know that?" 

They all gave her a flat look and she rolled her eyes, taking a sip from her water. 

"Alright, so I may have had a bit of an ulterior motive, aside from missing you." 

Clint gave an over the top fake gasp and put his hand to his chest. "I had _no idea_." 

"Will you shut it and listen for a minute?" 

"I don't know, that doesn't seem very like me. The chances are- ow, okay the chances are good." He rubbed at the spot on his arm like it had actually hurt when Bucky swat his arm. 

"Someone contacted me a couple months ago. They're doing some sort of documentary on punk bands at the time that we were playing, and they asked if we'd be willing to talk to them, answer a few questions or something." 

"No offense Tasha," Tony said, spinning his glass in its own water ring to have something to do with his hands, "but you could have said that over an email. Don't get me wrong, I am happy to see you guys, but... this seems like a bit much to answer some questions." 

Natasha took another sip from her water, looking uncomfortable. "I can't be the only one that missed what we used to have," she said quietly, and none of them knew what to say to that. 

Clint cleared his throat, scratching at the back of his head. "Yeah I mean- uh, the band was-" 

"That's not what she meant and we all know it," Bucky said. 

Clint went silent again. 

Bucky took a quick look at everyone's faces, and realized that no one was planning on saying anything. Tony would probably sit here for the entire course of the meal without saying another word, and Clint was about to start spouting off whatever came to mind. Nat probably wouldn't stay around for that; she looked like she was one minute away from leaving entirely. "I um. Miss it. But there's no going back, you know? Me and Tony tried for a while, but it didn't work. And us... we're not together all the time anymore. What if we only worked because of- I dunno, the timing and the band? I don’t want to ruin those memories by trying to reclaim the past." 

"I don't believe that," Tony mumbled. They all turned to look at him, and his cheeks pinked as he kept his gaze trained on the tabletop. "We worked because we're all fucking awesome, and when we were missing two of those people, it didn't sit right. Yeah we're not the same that we used to be, but I find it hard to believe that any of you have turned into someone I don't want to know." 

Natasha nodded. "That's what I was thinking, too. Not exactly, of course, but-" she gestured vaguely "-the idea. I miss _us_ , and I don't think it's romanticizing the past or some shit. You just- you know that feeling of being in love? How it lingers? It stayed with me all these years, and all we need is to know that everyone is on the same page." 

"This is why you always wrote the lyrics," Clint joked. "Yeah, I'm uh, I'm in. Besides, I'm only over in Jersey, it's not like I'm in Florida." 

"Jersey?" Bucky repeated, all three of them giving him a disgusted look. Natasha wasn't originally from the States, but after moving here, she'd firmly been a New Yorker, same as Tony and Bucky. 

Clint rolled his eyes. "It's not that bad." A beat. "Fine, but it could be worse." 

"So we're going to make this work?" Natasha asked, needing to double check. She looked around the table, getting either a nod or a mumbled 'yes'. She didn't _mean_ to puff up like a pleased parrot-- maybe not a parrot, but one of those brightly colored birds that strutted around like it owned not only the branch but the entire tree-- but that's definitely what she did. "Great." 

"Just so I know, is the documentary real?" Tony asked. 

"Everything I said about that is true. I think she wants an in person interview with us all at once or something, I don't know. I saw an excuse to get everyone back together and stopped paying attention." 

Bucky snorted. They all had different careers now, but he was willing to be that most of them hadn't changed much at all. 


End file.
